


Inescapable Fate

by DarknessEpsilon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alternative Werewolf Lore, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Angst with a Happy Ending, Conditioning, Dark, Depression, Deviates From Canon, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Escape, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Relationship, Kidnapping, Knotting, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Not A Fix-It, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Postpartum Depression, Punishment, Rape, References to Canon, Sarcastic Stiles, Sassy Peter Hale, Slow Build, Spanking, Telepathic Bond, Vaginal Fingering, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessEpsilon/pseuds/DarknessEpsilon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had been wanting to leave Beacon Hills for some time. She was ready for a change, and wanted to leave the past behind. Peter wasn't about to let that happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Future Altered

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains rape and non/con elements. This is no joke, kids. Please treat this as your first and only warning.

_Holy Christ, Stiles, that'll learn ya not to pull over to the side of the road by a forest, at night,_ she thought. She had just wanted to get out and breathe for a moment when she saw Peter. Kind, unassuming, idiot that she was, she hadn't been immediately on her guard. She didn't see the cloth until it was already over her mouth. Her last thought? "Damn it, this is gonna be annoying." Stiles was so poetic sometimes. Okay, if she was being honest, what she had really wondered in her final moments of consciousness, and had been wondering intensely since she had woken up alone in some random bedroom was, _"Why me?"_

 He had kidnapped her. The bastard had really kidnapped her. Unbelievable. He had to know that people would be looking for her. Stiles wasn't exactly the most helpful or least annoying member of the pack, but she mattered..she guessed? To some people? To her dad at least. One thing was for sure though. She was going to get out of here. But first, she wanted to tie up loose ends like a mature adult, after all, at least one of them should be.

She was currently staring down her kidnapper.

"Peter, what about this situation screams "OK" to you? I'm curious." Her voice dripped with venom.

Peter was looking at her with a slightly determined, slightly content look. It made her deeply uncomfortable. His thick arms roped with muscle were crossed and he was leaning against the banister, totally relaxed, as though he didn't just drug and abduct someone. He sighed a little too heavily, as though she was the one being difficult.

"It isn't that this needed to be OK, Stiles, it just needed to happen. It's important that you're here. You are important to me."

Stiles scoffed, "This is not going to go down well with my dad-you know the sheriff? Not to mention Scott and Kira, who are going to be furious when they find out what you've done. I'm leaving for Seattle tomorrow, dickhead! I don't have time for these games."

Peter's voice lowered, "Stiles did you really think you could just leave? Abandon m--everyone without even saying goodbye?"

Stiles tapped her foot with nervous energy, wanting to strangle the wolf in frustration but for what felt like the hundredth time she only let a small amount of anger come through her clenched teeth.

"So you decided to kidnap me? Not that it is any of your business, since it's not, but Scott said I could go, and even if you don't feel like believing the Alpha, it's true. Even still, you had no right...none...to do this. I am leaving tomorrow, and you're lucky I don't go to him or my father right now. Goodbye Peter."

She angrily headed for the door only to be abruptly stopped as Peter caught her around the middle and gently dragged her back into his warm chest. He leaned in until his breath caught her ear. "We're not finished here, my love."

"Oh, I think we are. Let me go!" she started squirming around only for Peter's muscled arms to wrap tighter around her. _Cursed werewolf strength_ , she thought. She struggled and fought for what seemed like forever but only felt her self getting tired.

When she finally stilled, breathing hard and feeling significantly humiliated, Peter nuzzled her hair lovingly which disgusted her.

"You smell so delicious. Like gingerbread and new books." He smiled into her hair.

"I don't even know what to say to that." She answered honestly.

Peter spun her around to face his blue eyes, holding her back from him a bit.

He looked sincere and vibrant when he spoke, "Say you'll stay with me and be my mate! Say you'll try and see my side of what happened that night in Mexico. Say you'll help me become the Alpha and give the pack a true leader!" He searched her brown eyes for an answer.

She looked back incredulously, and almost scoffed, "You're certifiable! I know what happened in Mexico, you tried to kill my best friend! And the pack does have a true leader, the same guy you tried to kill in Mexico! No is my answer now and forever, you psychotic rogue!"

She bit her lip out of nervous habit and regretted that last bit, knowing Peter's history with Eichen House, and his tendency towards irrational behavior. It was a cruel jab and she almost felt bad...almost. That is until she saw him look hopelessly at her for a moment before his eyes hardened and his grip tightened.

"Now that's just hurtful. First of all, I'm not a total psycho, but thank you for your honesty, Stiles."

Before she could say another word he had swept her up and swung her over his shoulder and began walking through the hall, back up the stairs. Jesus, he was strong. She pounded against his back only to earn a swat on her rump.

She gasped, affronted. "Don't smack me you crazed kidnapping serial killing-"

"Then don't give me a reason to. Children must be corrected."

"Ha! How would you know, your daughter, who is _my_ age by the way, won't even speak to y--hey!" 

She was smacked on the backside a little harder for running her mouth.

He had set her down and was pushing her into her room, closing the door behind him. "Peter, seriously? Let me go. Please, I don't have any reason to stay! Scott and I...we've been fighting, he's busy with Kira." Stiles says dejectedly.

She wished this were a lie but she'd noticed Scott ignoring her more and more and it hurt. Peter continued to move towards her slowly, his body moving like a predator, graceful yet powerful and steady. She backed up till her legs hit the bed and she stopped, but Peter didn't. He continued advancing even as she continued placating. After all, talking a lot was what Stiles did in stressful situations.

"So there's really no point to me being here and of course what's he gonna say about all this? And my dad's probably looking for me and-and-" she stuttered and stopped, noticing Peter smiling down at her, amused.

She furrowed her brows, confused. She instinctively put her hands up against his chest when he invaded her personal space and his arms came up to settle on her waist.

"WHAT are you doing?" she asks, disturbed.

Peter smoothed back her hair before caressing her jaw with his large hand. "You must know. Or can you be so impossibly naive as to believe I care about your make believe relationship with that insignificant weak link? I am never parting with you. I knew the moment I first saw you, that I had to have you, bond with you, make you mine."

With that he dipped his head to capture her lips, biting her lower lip just enough so she gasped in shock, which is all he needed to dart his tongue in her mouth. She was paralyzed in shock, in the sensation of being held and kissed with such ferocious, pent up energy. She had no idea he felt this way.

She tried to pull away but his hand found it's way to the back of her head and held it nearer. When he finally released her, she was breathless and her eyes were wide. He was gazing down at her with a loving smile. She slowly sat down on the bed, turning away slightly as she was now eye level with his waist and she disliked the implication. She hated how confidently men stood when she felt the need to fold in on her self and make herself disappear.

"Peter, I don't understand. You hate me! My best friend humiliated you in front everyone including your daughter, and we've spent most of our acquaintance begrudgingly pairing up to kill horrifying, unspeakable monsters, but other than that we stay away from each other. That's how it is?!" She huffed, brown eyes burning up at his blue ones.

Peter sat beside her on the bed and took her hand between his. "Circumstances are unfortunate, but Stiles...I don't hate you, who put those thoughts in your head? You know that no one can deny what's between us. I need you in my life. Let me show you what you can have with me."

She was about to protest when she felt claws at the back of her neck and suddenly she felt drained, much weaker, like she'd been drugged, yet fully aware. Her muscles relaxed and she fell back, until Peter caught her and gently laid her down.

He didn't.

He absolutely did.

He used his power to drain her strength.

Of course, how did she not see it coming? What other way could the coward have her? She couldn't believe he would actually do something like this, just like she couldn't believe he had kidnapped her. She needed to stop underestimating him.

 _I guess I never thought he would take it this far_ , she thought dismally.

"What...Peter..no?" she mumbled.

"Shh, hush now little one, just relax. I'm going to show you all the pleasures that a man can give a woman, and afterwards, I'm going to claim you forever."

These words had her ferociously bucking and twisting to get away from him in vain.

Stiles tried to struggle even as Peter's weight settled over her.

"No, please don't Peter, you know this isn't what I want! You fucking bastard!"

Peter gently held her down. "Stiles will you shut up for once? There's absolutely no reason we can't make a fine pairing. I love you, and I know with time your feelings will turn."

"Yeah, turn to murderous. If you do this, I won't forgive you." 

"You will. In the mean time, my claim on you will be proudly displayed here."

He traced the junction between her neck and shoulder and she shivered at the feather light touches and anticipation of his promise.

She gulped and said nervously, "We can talk about this, you don't have to do this, I'll stay if you want me to, but don't make me do this. I want my own life!"

He almost seemed sympathetic as he looked in her eyes, "As much as I wish I could do this another way, I can't let you leave. Your place is here beside me, leading the pack."

She wanted to scream and struggle but felt too relaxed and lethargic, so all she could do was lay uncomfortably as Peter pulled her blue T-shirt over her head, her shoes and jeans were removed, and finally her undergarments. Peter stood back and appraised her body under the moonlight.

She was magnificent and he told her so. She had a little constellation of moles and freckles along her neck and her body curved well, it told a story and he was going to be apart of that story. Stiles closed her eyes, she'd never shown her body to anyone, much less a crazy wolf, and she was self conscious of her looks.

How could she not be? With the kind of people Scott surrounded himself with, and standing next to Kira...

She opened her eyes just as he began to undress, their eyes locked on each other. Only when he was down to his boxer shorts did her eyes naturally gaze down his abdomen in rich appreciation, though she didn't know it was written on her face.

It wasn't as though she'd never seen him with his shirt off before, running with Scott's crowd, it was bound to happen. As much as she had secretly enjoyed the sight in the moment, she'd never thought of them as mates, much less together in any form.

However, she couldn't deny he was built well and tall, unlike the thin build of some of the other members of the pack, he was a man and a werewolf. He was all power and sinew and muscles but she turned her head away, angry at herself for indulging in even a glance. Peter growled and she heard material hitting the floor. He was naked and quickly advanced on her. She felt the dip in the mattress as he caged her body.

He nipped her ear and neck and she turned back in surprise only to have her mouth captured. Peter purred low in his throat, relishing in the feeling of her lips on his. Her arms lay limply at her sides. She couldn't believe this was happening! She tried to cry out but it was too muffled and came out more like a whimper.

Peter pulled away and his eyes were glowing in the electric blue of a killer. The effect was chilling, little hairs stood up on her neck and she felt a shiver down her spine.

He was just as affected by her as she was by him, she realized. His eyes lost their softness and were replaced with lust, animalistic and intense as he slowly made his way down her abdomen, his eyes on hers the entire time, she felt as though she were in a trance, unable to look away. He grabbed a leg on either side and pulled them apart, splaying her to his view.

She was even more perfect there than he thought. He looked up at her through half-lidded eyes and his voice was hoarse.

"Stiles, has anyone ever touched you like this?" Stiles let her head fall, staring at the ceiling. She shook her head no, beyond humiliation. She started to feel something...it was.. a _yearning_ , a warmth glowing within her and spreading through her hips and pussy. Horrified and embarrassed, she felt a pulsing want and slick start to seep out of her as she felt his eyes on her.

"I'll be your first, fuck, Stiles you continue to amaze me." She felt hot breath against her clit seconds before his warm tongue made contact and then oh, oh! She felt his teeth slide against her sensitive clit more than a few times. His tongue made one long swipe up her pussy and her back arched involuntarily.

She couldn't even tense up, all she could do was accept the feeling of his tongue creating friction where she needed it most. The sensations he was creating within her were unlike anything she'd ever felt. It felt so good, so good, so goood and then it stopped as he pulled his mouth away at the last second. She cried out in disappointment and looked down at him in a haze.

He grinned evilly at her and nipped her inner leg. He wet a finger and carefully pushed into her, and at first it was uncomfortable but soon she felt him hit a certain spot and she jumped.

"Oh god!" and he chuckled at her. He began massaging her there and it felt damn good but nothing as intense as his mouth licking at her.

"Please." she whimpered.

Peter dragged his finger over her clit once causing sparks in her lower abdomen. "Please what, little one?" he asked devilishly.

She threw her head back again, panting with need, defiantly silent.

He chuckled at her again, "Stubborn girl, I'll allow it just this once."

And with that he was attacking her clit with expert ministrations, suckling just right, just hard enough, and she was over the edge, burning with lust, the powerful orgasm shaking her and making her cry out. Peter wasted no time.

He sat up and hauled her into the sitting position on his lap. She only had a moment to get her bearings together before she was being sunk down on to his cock. She put her hands on his shoulders to stop the intrusion but he gently yet firmly continued guiding it inside of her with his hands on her hips. She was forced to look into his eyes this way.

"Wait, Peter stop!"

"No, little one."

"God, I can't take it Peter please don't do this!" he angled his hips to hit that place inside her and she couldn't help the way it made her feel. She felt so full and so inescapably connected to this man. As he slid in and out of her languidly, he forced her to acknowledge the sensations, the glorious friction that he was providing her. He kissed her neck, her breasts, licking and biting when she squirmed.

"God, you're beautiful." He cried out.

His words made her eyes roll back in her head and she climaxed for the second time that night. She heard him howl and he released inside of her, their bodies locked together by his growing knot, and he groaned in absolute satisfaction.

He moved her hair to the side, held her still as if she could escape the bite, and clamped down on her shoulder junction with his canines. She screamed in surprise and fear and lucidity came rushing back to her. She was struggling to get off of him but she felt the knot connecting them and his teeth locked on her.

She was crying and it hurt, even as Peter's hand dipped between them and began to flick her clit, teasing it. The feeling of being so full, of having no where to escape the pleasure pushed her into her final release, her pussy clamping down painfully around him.

Peter released her mangled and bloody neck and gently rearranged them so she lay splayed atop him, his knot still locking them together. He cupped her ass, loving the feel of it under his massive, warm palms, pliable and soft. He then kneaded her lower back, massaging her after her first coitus.

Finally his arms came around her, securing her, anchoring her to him, chest to chest. She was panting and whimpering, out of sorts, her pussy still fluttering and she felt his knot swollen and full inside her. She tried to push it out or wriggle away but his arms tightened around her.

"None of that," He nuzzled her hair and kissed the top of her head, "The bond has to set, and we'll be locked together for a while. You may sleep now." She barely heard him, exhausted and traumatized, lulled by his heartbeat she felt herself drift away, sleeping atop the warm mass of flesh that was her new mate.

 


	2. Day of Reckoning

 

Stiles awoke to find that she was alone, much to her relief. Her muscles were sore and there was some stinging in between her legs. Her mouth felt gummy and she rubbed her eyes to remove some of the crustiness there. The light was blasting in her face and she was covered in blankets.

She kicked them off in frustration, feeling hot and uncomfortable and plenty of other emotions.

The relief of cool air on her skin was short lived when she remembered what had happened. She looked down at her naked body in shock. She sat up and appraised her injuries, if any. She observed that there were in fact little tiny fingermark bruises along her hips where _he_ had gripped her. All at once the memories of the traumatic night came rushing back to her.

The feeling of sharp claws at her neck, the feeling of soft fabric under her back, Peter whispering in her ear. Possibly worst of all, she recounted, were the _sounds_ she had made. She shuddered in horror. What was wrong with her? Had she honestly _enjoyed it?_ She shook her head _. I can’t blame myself, this wasn’t my fault, he did this to me_ , she thought desperately.

She paused mid panic attack. Oh god, he had done this. He had bonded to her. That was it. Her carefully planned escape to a new life was shattered in one night, and she was forever connected to her enemy. That was what he was to her, if he hadn’t been before, he sure as hell was now, and she was mated to him. She felt like she was going to throw up.

She rolled off the bed and ran to the bathroom. The contents of yesterday’s lunch came up in a retching, violent mess. When her body had removed every piece of evidence she had ever eaten, she slumped against the cold tile of the floor in tears. Stiles had never wanted a crazy life, never wanted too much excitement.

She had always assumed she would either marry one of the guys down at the station or end up running the damn place. Either way, her roots had been deep.

Scott’s transformation, and later her own, and every terrifying thing they had had to deal with since had caused her feelings to change drastically.

It was all she could do not to pack a bag and jump on a train, disappearing into the night. Yet, she knew she couldn’t live with the guilt of doing that to her dad, the only person who truly understood every neurotic facet of Stiles. So she had gone through the proper channels, honored Scott’s position as the Alpha, and spoken with her dad about her plans to go to school up in Seattle.

With graphs and maps and red markers she had meticulously plotted every detail of what she wanted until the idea of variables and alternate realities hadn’t seemed possible. She had a set path and she wanted to go for it. To exist freely as one person, not the extension of her father or her Alpha best friend.

Just Stiles. And he had taken it from her. He had essentially destroyed that chance for Stiles, and she was never going to forgive him, not as long as she lived, and werewolves lived a very long time.

She grit her acid washed teeth and forced herself to stand despite the queasiness she felt deep in her rotted abdomen. She flushed the toilet, watching the contents go down and envying their quick and inevitable removal from the house.

She walked back into the bedroom with sore soles and a sting in her shoulder. She gasped and ran back into the bathroom. She flipped the switch and shoved her shoulder nearer the reflective glass.

 “Bastard.” She spat. Her shoulder was caked with dried blood, it looked like black sludge, combined with an inflamed redness around the individual teeth marks. It hurt so much, and it was _throbbing_. She felt fresh tears spring up in her eyes.

She pushed them back with some difficulty and made herself clean the wound with some soap and warm water. She pat dried the mark with a towel and felt slightly better. She made her way to the walk-in closet and was surprised to see that most of her clothing had been brought there.

“Creepy.” She murmured aloud, disgusted. Using some of the observational skills one of the P.I.’s had taught her when she was little, she figured he had probably been planning this far in advance. He had to have known that in the disorganized chaos of her room she wouldn’t have missed a few articles of clothing here, a pair of shoes there.  The knowledge didn’t make her feel better.

The thought of Peter rummaging around her room infuriated her. She angrily ripped a favorite shirt from the hanger, a pair of dark jeans and some black socks. She made her way back out to the bedroom and gathered her underwear from the floor, including her chucks.

Armed with her clothing of choice, she marched into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it. It reminded her that her kidnapper had yet to make an appearance this morning. Maybe the coward had found some semblance of half-way decency and realized she wouldn’t want to see his face first thing in the morning…after. She brushed aside that line of thought. _Plenty of time to not deal with that later, with drugs!_ She thought, bitterly.

She set her clothing down on the gleaming white counter and turned on the tap for the shower. She turned it to a little bit too hot and hissed as she stepped into the shower, closing the glass partition. She embraced the scalding water, wanting to get the stink and decay off of her poor body.

Sweat and grime and greasy hair were not her best look. She squeezed out a generous amount of shower gel and used her hands to wash herself, no cloth available. She was in the shower for about twenty minutes before she picked up a noise. It was the noise of the front door being opened and then closed. She turned off the water as she heard footsteps slowly but surely making their way up stairs.

She scrambled out of the shower, dried herself off at record speed and just finished tying the last lace on her shoe when the door to the bedroom opened. Stiles held her breath tense, as he didn’t burst in the bathroom. That was when she heard his voice for the first time since the Incident. He cleared his throat.

“Stiles?” He knocked on the door to the bathroom. She felt a mild panic rising and gulped down her fear, her throat felt tight. _Shit, how can I face him? What do I say? What is he going to say? How am I going to get out of this?_ All these thoughts raced through her head at lightning speed, which wasn’t that unusual as that was how Stiles always thought.

 “Stiles, open the door please, I don't feel like breaking it down." Peter’s stern voice came through the pinewood door.

She breathed out slowly, “Just a minute, God, I’m _pissing._ ” She flushed the toilet for good measure and washed her hands unnecessarily. She took a deep breath and wrenched open the door. There in the doorway was Peter. His hair was freshly washed and he had changed to a dark blue shirt. He looked vibrant and alert, the opposite of her lethargic, fatigued state. She glared at him with unadulterated hatred.

 “What?!” She fumed, arms crossed. Peter gave her a raised eyebrow.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine. I thought you might be hungry.” He gestured out the open door and down the stairs.

  Stiles narrowed her eyes, “I’m not hungry.”

Peter gave her a hard look. “Oh, it’s non-negotiable. You need to eat; I don’t want you getting sick.”

She scoffed and mumbled, “Too late, asshole.” She brushed past him.

“You can drop the act, kid. I know you’re scared.”

Did he just… _goad_ her?

She whipped around, waiting for just that one comment so she could erupt. “And what could have given you that impression? Could it be perhaps that I was kidnapped by an insane wolf who literally took me against my own will, who took my ambitions and life goals and smashed them to shit? How dare you sit there and act like nothing happened? I am seriously contemplating murder here, you bastard. Please tell me more about how scared I am.” She finished, eyes blazing, breathing hard after her tirade.

Peter had the audacity to look disappointed. Well, he could go fuck himself, she was not the one to blame. She hadn’t done anything wrong!

He made a move to lift her up over his shoulder and she quickly placed a hand on his chest, feeling a quick little electric shock when she did so. “Wait, my stomach. I threw up.” She muttered miserably, holding a hand over her stomach _. Damn it, don’t admit weakness._ She scolded herself.

Peter looked down in surprise. “You aren’t…”

She looked up in disbelief. “What? Pregnant? Ha! In your wildest, creepiest and impossible fantasies, maybe. I’m on the pill. No, my sickness comes from the fact that I am,” she grinds out the next word, “ _bonded_ to a sociopath against my will.”

With that she turned and walked downstairs, Peter close at her heels, and instead of trying for the front door she knew she wouldn’t get close to, she headed for the kitchen.

 “I can’t eat any of this.” She gestured to the array of bacon and processed scrambled eggs from a carton. Feeling her captor’s eyes on her, she made her way confidently to a glass door she guessed was the pantry and made a noise of triumph when she correctly identified it.

A singular and intuitive skill she possessed was always being able to find food in any location. Scott had frequently commented on it, impressed and intimidated. The thought of her best friend made her heart drop so she pushed aside thoughts of him. She rummaged around until she found saltines crackers, applesauce and a bottle of lukewarm water. She grabbed a plate and a spoon and dumped the crackers and applesauce on her plate.

“Bon appetite, girl.” She whispered to herself, sardonically.

“Why crackers?” the unwanted presence made himself known again.

She sighed in frustration and turned to where the source of her problems was seated calmly at the island counter in the middle of the giant kitchen. Instead of answering his question she asked one of her own. “Where are we Peter?”

He sighed and some hurt showed in his eyes. “My parents’ house.”

Stiles choked on a cracker and downed some water quickly. “What are you talking about? This can’t be Hale House…it bu-“

“Burned down years ago, yes I know, I was there as you may recall.” Peter said, bitterly.

Stiles didn’t know what to say so she bit a cracker.

“I’ve spent the last few months hiring private contractors to restore it to its original glory and preserve the memory of my family. What you see here is the finished product of a labor of love.” Peter swept his arm in a general direction.

He grinned at her. “What do you think?”

She took a sip of water. “I think you should let me go, Peter.”

Peter growled. “That’s not happening, little one.”

She growled in kind, “Oh my God! Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that name makes me feel?"

She gripped the counter for support, feeling another bout of nausea threatening her intimidating demeanor.

Peter stood up to his full height, kicking the chair back behind him, he slowly started to make his way over to her side of the counter. In response, she instinctively started to move around to the other side. “Stiles, I'm not going to tolerate this constant barrage of insults and screaming. Don't try and hide when you aren't feeling well either, you're terrible at it."He closed the remaining distance between them. She realized to late and by then his arms were already around her. She made a half-hearted attempt to push against his chest in protest.

“Hush.” Was all he said as he hugged her close, forcing her to rest her head against his chest.

 “I know you aren’t feeling well-“

“Uh, yeah because I told you.”

He squeezed her tighter. “So I suggest we go for a walk, the sun is out, the forest is…filled with monsters. If you promise not to run away, I promise not to catch you immediately and deliver punishment, what do you say?” He lifted her chin to his smirking face.

“Get your hand away from my face before I bite it.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the phrase ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you?” He asked, exasperated.

“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘kidnapping is a felony’? and I fed myself!” Stiles retorted indignantly. She pushed against him and this time he let her go. She looked out the window. It did look nice out. And she really didn’t want to stay in this house any longer than she had to. She could try to get away if she was outside, maybe send Scott a signal. She turned back to Peter. “Fine, let’s go for a walk.”

Peter gestured for her to go first. She rolled her eyes but walked to the door, opened it and stepped out onto the porch. She breathed in the scent of wildflowers, Pine trees, and something else.

“It’s ash, that you smell. Come on, let’s go.” Peter gently pushed against the small of her back to urge her forwards. How had he known what she was thinking? To her horror, Stiles realized the bond was causing Peter to be able to feel her thoughts, subjectively. She knew bonded pairs couldn’t read minds, but it was a close thing. She resolved to pay more attention to shutting him out.

Peter grabbed her hand, startling her out of her thoughts. She pulled against him.

“Ugh! Let go!” His fingers tightened, interlocked with her slender ones. Peter’s voice dropped considerably.

“Stiles…” She decided not to press the relatively small issue when she compared it to the overall issue of being imprisoned.

She pursed her lips and allowed herself to be led along a small dirt path through the woods.

“I want to speak with you, like an adult, think you can handle it?"

Stiles glared.

"Good. Now, I'm not so optimistic that I expect our little arrangement will last forever, and eventually Scott and your dad will turn up."

"Not soon enough in my opinion," Stiles counted on one hand, "My dad will come for me, I'll be rescued, and you will die a painful death and be forgotten, win-win!"

Her comment earned her a frown.

"You must know, that nothing they say or do to me will change the fact that we are mated. If they managed to get you away from me, which will never happen," He gripped her a little tighter, "the bond would send you back to me. Fate has a funny way of directing us."

Stiles poked an accusing finger in his broad chest. "Even if I have to shove myself in a goddamn silver cage, I am _never_ going to come to you."

Peter smiled and bopped her on the nose with his finger, a little too condescendingly for her taste. 

Completely ignoring her tirade he continued sanctimoniously, urging her to keep walking. Stiles eyes darted around, looking for landmarks, footprints, any indication she could escape easily. She had been in these woods before, with Derek. He had been exceptionally rude. She missed him.

"Also, as you brought up this morning, rather rudely, you are using contraception. I approve of this because you are still young and I want us to have a chance to familiarize ourselves with each other, spend time together, and work out our differences. It wouldn’t do to bring up a child in a hostile environment. I’m confident I’ll wear you down.”

He smiled at her like everything he was saying was totally normal and not the ramblings of a delusional man.

“I don’t approve, however, of your attitude towards me. I understand all of this is hard for you. I wish I could take back what I did last night, but I can’t. It happened and you are bonded to me. You can cry about it and hate me forever, or you can embrace the good fortune you’ve been given.”

“Good fortune? You really are crazy. You know something Peter? I'm only 17. Do you have any idea how overwhelming this all is? Not to mention you're practically old enough to be my father.” She shook her head.

Peter opened his mouth in mock offense, "I'm thirty-seven, and I look good for thirty-seven! And don't think I didn't check your birthday. You're going to be 18 in two weeks." He winked at her. 

She scoffed. "I don't know whether to be impressed or creeped out. I choose creeped out. You went through my room too."

"I did. I have every right to go through my mate's property, it belongs to me now, just as she does."

Stiles stopped walking. "Are you going to hurt my dad?" 

Peter shook his head, "Stiles! I'm offended you would think that about me." He grinned like they were just joking around, instead of talking about the potential threat to her father's life if she didn't comply.

"It's not as if my questions are misplaced." She said, pointedly.

Peter got serious then. "I will never engage with them unless they try to take you from me. Just understand Stiles, that I will never willingly let that happen."

"Huh. I guess it'll have to be unwillingly then."

“You have a mate who loves you, wants to care for you, protect you, fight a long side you, support you. What more could you want?" he asked almost incredulously.

"My freedom."

Peter rolled his eyes. "What else besides that?"

"An honest answer as to why you kidnapped me instead of asking me if this was what I wanted. You know, as far away and impossible as that is now, maybe just, _maybe_ if you had confessed your feelings and asked me how I felt, I might have stayed and tried to work things out." 

He took the bait. His eyes flickered with what looked like hope. 

"I couldn't take that chance. I couldn't let you choose wrong." That stung.

He didn't trust her to make informed adult decisions about something as crucial and important as bonding but when he wanted to rape her she was plenty adult for him apparently.

"So your only option was kidnap and rape? Because that is what this is Peter. Trying to make it anything else is just deluding yourself and invalidating me."

Peter nodded. "Your feelings have been hurt, and you're embarrassed. I get it." 

"No, I really think you  _don't_ and I'm not embarrassed. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not the rapist. You aren't going to spin this any way where you are devoid of responsibility for what you did."

Peter pulled her down to a grassy knoll by a small waterfall. It was slightly secluded and there was a variety of foliage surrounding the area. He sat down, pulling her with him.

The little waterfall splashed into a small stream that ran lazily past them, winding out of sight. There were birds chirping and the sun rolled behind a cloud, casting a temporary grey light on the almost fairy tale-like scene before Stiles. 

"You are still such a child in some ways. So stubborn and unwilling to see the truth even as it's laid out before you, when you know it in your heart. You feel for me. You have for some time. You certainly did last night." Peter grinned at her, his eyes flashing with amusement when her head whipped around to glare at him. 

Peter's gentle but firm grasp on her slender hand did not abate. He seemed relaxed but she knew it was an act, she could feel the tension in his coiled muscles, even as he leaned back in the grass, resting on his elbows. She wondered how much energy it would take to incapacitate him long enough to get up and run, how long she would have before he caught her. He had mentioned a "punishment" and she wasn't eager to have it meted out. 

She decided to forgo that particular future which held too many variables and went for a more unconventional route. She decided to lay down in the grass beside him and speak honestly. She felt his surprise, choosing to ignore that it was mostly likely the bond giving her this information. 

"I do not. Not anymore, if I ever did." 

"So you admit-"

"I'm not admitting anything," she sighed tiredly, "and I really wish you would stop trying to convince me this is anything more than a captor/captive dynamic."

"Oh, our dynamic is a special one, Stiles, there's no denying that. These things have always fascinated me you know. The dynamic between a man and a woman, the dynamic between a mate and her alpha."

Her eyes met his in a hard glare. "I have an Alpha and he is nothing like you. Last night...it meant nothing to me." She threw her barbed words, hoping to cut. She turned away from his blue eyes to look up at the sky only to find a large male above her. It happened so quickly she didn't have time to say a word as his weight settled over hers.

She frowned up at him. He looked down at her with displeasure clear in his features. "How long are you gonna keep this up? This lying to yourself just to hurt me? It's not working and we both know it."

"Get off of me now."

"No, you are going to listen."

She snorted. "You can't force that." To prove it, she closed her eyes and started humming to herself. She regretted it instantly when she felt his mouth descend on hers. She opened her eyes in shock and struggled to turn her head away but he held her head in place and deepened the kiss.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out what was happening. She tried not to react but there was this warm feeling in her chest, it seemed to control her mouth and it opened on its own, allowing him entrance. His tongue searched her mouth, he tasted like toasted marshmallows, weirdly.

She bit down hard.

Peter grunted in surprise and his grip on her head became crushing. She released his mouth and he pulled back, grinning at her. He held her close with one hand and wiped the blood away with the other. 

"I suppose I saw that coming. You know something Stiles, you don't have to be ashamed. Your reactions last night were what I expected and completely normal."

"There's nothing normal about what happened. You forced me. You hurt me."

"Don't lie to me Stiles. You were in no pain. I made sure of it. Even before I bit you, your wolf recognized her mate. She bowed down as you did. Your submission was beautiful to me. It made me crave you all the more. Made my bite even more effective. Because you see, no mating can be completely successful without a degree of desire and affection on either side. But that is all it takes. One small hidden part of your heart that desired me. I will see that desire inflame. I will not stop until your feelings turn from this misguided resentment, to love."

She felt her eyes tearing up at his words. Hot tears of shame fell down the side of her cheekbones as she lay beneath him. 

"I had a life planned, you know. Things I wanted to do. Places I have always wanted to go. Just to be alone, and free." She turned her head to the side. Her feelings of hopelessness weighing her down with each breath. 

Peter gazed down at her and his expression of sympathy and understanding were not to be borne. 

"But I guess that's all over now, huh? Everything I wanted meant nothing to you then, and now. So everything you want means nothing to me now. I'll never stop running away from you." Her ultimatum seemed to strike a chord with the obtuse male above her. His grip shifted as they stared each other down. 

His eyes darkened with amusement and a slight hint of anger. 

"And I will never stop chasing you."

"I  _will_ get away from you, eventually."

"Then I must bring you home."

"Bastard."

"Brat."

"Sociopath!"

"Mate."

She shuddered at the word. Damn, he knew what buttons to push. How had she let him get the best of her? He had controlled everything from the moment she woke up this morning. He had nudged the direction of the conversation, offering little to no information, and reminded her of her place in a truly degrading way. She growled in frustration. 

"God, that's adorable." Peter smiled at his little mate. 

"Uh,  _don't_ patronize me."

He chuckled. "Stiles, when will you learn to stop picking fights with supernatural creatures far stronger than you?" 

"Probably never, pretty annoying right? Whelp, might as well let me go, I'm always like this, sucks to be you right? Probably should've thought this one through, you-" 

She was cut off with another kiss. He didn't let her up for air until she had melted back into the ground, and the tension left her body. When his mouth broke from hers she was breathless, her lips puffed. Her irises were dilating and Peter watched in curiosity. "Hmm..." was all he said. 

"Peter...?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, little one?"

 "Why me? And don't give me that 'we're meant to be' crap either. Why did you choose me?" And there it was, the question she had been wanting to ask since the beginning. 

Peter brushed back her drying hair, watching the golden brown strands reflect the light. 

"There's no one else." 

She knew the unspoken words. The thing he could probably never say out loud. There was no one else _who could ever understand him_. His vulnerabilities, his motivations, his fears and painful memories that still haunted him. She knew though, more than anyone. Yet all of her empathy for him and been destroyed. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You're giving me a headache. Which reminds me...Peter I need my medication.” She searched his eyes. “You do have it...don’t you?”

Peter sighed as though he could feel the force of anger he was about to be confronted with.

“I flushed it down the toilet.”

Stiles paused, letting the information sink in.

“YOU WHAT?!?”

“Stiles, calm down! Those pills were causing you unnecessary side effects!”

“Oh yeah, it's really unnecessary to be able to concentrate on something for more than a few seconds! It’s really not necessary to be calm and happy huh? Spoken like a truly ignorant person. You had no right! I’m going to go through withdrawals, I need my fucking pills!” She finished, her canines flashing.

“Stiles your health is now my main priority. I did quite a bit of research on your medication and do you know what I found? Wolfsbane. Your pills were laced with it. It was making you weak! It was giving you more symptoms than if you hadn’t taken any at all. You need to detox and get it out of your bloodstream, then we can talk about getting you on some real medication. In the meantime, instead of screaming at the wrong person, perhaps you should be wondering why your own father was feeding you wolfsbane. Hmm?”

Stiles was dumbfounded. “He wouldn’t...I don’t…” She stuttered. Then she pursed her lip.

She wasn’t falling into any traps. “I don’t believe you. Not without evidence.”

Peter laughed, “Come on, you’ve had enough sunshine, you little hurricane. I’ll show you the tests we ran.”

We? Who was helping Peter ruin her life? Who would agree- she almost laughed. When Peter was involved, consent was secondary to getting his way.

With this he started pulling a reluctant Stiles back towards the house, a quarter of a mile away.

She looked into his blue eyes, which looked brighter with the sunlight streaming through the trees. The wind was rustling pine needles. It seemed so tranquil, compared to the chaos warring inside her. There was this small, glowing ember that had been growing ever bigger in her chest since she had woken up. She hadn’t been able to identify as of yet but now she knew, it was the bond working its evils against her.

 She took a deep breath.

“If you touch me again without my permission, I’ll kill you.”

He sighed and hauled her up, gripping her shoulders firmly, “And that’s another thing. These empty threats have to stop. I will hold you, make love to you, touch you as I see fit. While we're on the topic, you should know the Blood Moon is coming up...tomorrow."

The Blood Moon was when every wolf, bonded or no went into a rut or heat. It lasted for three days and was an intensely pleasurable experience, when shared with someone. Alone, it had always been unbearable, unless Stiles had her heat suppressants. She guessed Peter had particularly relished throwing those down the toilet as well. Bastard.

Stiles snapped her head up to look at him, horror prevalent on her face. Shit! How had she missed that? She'd always kept track of the lunar cycles just to be sure she'd take her suppressants.

"No." 

"Oh yes." Peter chuckled and had her against a tree before she could think. He set a knee between her legs and pressed up close, holding her waist with one hand and gripping her neck with the other.  
He nuzzled her neck and kissed her jaw. "I timed it perfectly, Stiles, every last detail. You're going to come to me, willingly, craving my touch, and I am going to answer your body."

She grimaced. "And we were having such pleasant conversation." 

"Glad to hear it." He rubbed a thumb over her claiming mark. "That's healing nicely. Did you know that claiming marks can feel incredibly erogenous, especially during the Blood Moon? Let's test that theory, shall we?" He gently began massaging the bite and Stiles gasped and rubbed the apex of her thighs against his knee involuntarily.

He grinned widely at her and did it again. Stiles moaned and pressed into him. She shook her head and tried to pull away. Peter's grip tightened. "You will submit to me, as you did the first time, and will every time from now on. Because you recognize me as your mate and as your alpha. If I wasn't a worthy opponent in this little chess game of ours, your wolf, your strong and beautiful she-wolf would have viciously defended you to the last, but I am worthy of you and we will be worthy of each other, in every way."

"God, you can really ramble on. You telling me my wolf betrayed me isn't helping your case. My dad will come get me before the Blood Moon."

Peter smirked and groped her ass. "You need to work on your tone, even you don't sound convinced."

Stiles grabbed his hand in a crushing grip and lifted it off her ass. He seemed weirdly turned on by her little show of strength. A subtle reminder that she was just as strong as him. She had been weak from the drugs last night, but she would be at full strength again very soon if he didn't keep dosing her. And if what he said about her medication was true, she was going to have a lot more untried ability in the next few days.

"Don't come near me on the Blood Moon, if you enjoy living."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Idle threats, my love. Back to the house. You really have to start thinking in terms of "we" and "us" Stiles. Our souls are intertwined, and all that." 

“I’m convinced you have no soul.”


	3. Revelation

 

“Yeah the name’s Stiles...Stilinksi. Do you need me to spell it out? No that doesn’t sound right, she was supposed to have signed the paper work by now. Yeah…yeah…can you do me a favor and call this number as soon as she comes through? Okay, thank you for your cooperation.”

Sheriff Stilinksi hung up the phone and sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Any luck?” a head poked through the door.

Sheriff Stilinksi looked up to see Deputy Parrish looking at him sympathetically.

He shook his head worriedly. “She told me she would call. She promised that she wouldn’t lose contact. The apartment manager says they have no record of a Stiles Stilinksi in any of the housing units.”

Parrish nodded, he knew what the Sheriff’s biggest worry was. That Stiles had lied to him.

“I’m sure she’s fine Sheriff.”

“How can you be sure?” the Sheriff leaned back in his chair. His office was small, full of unfiled paperwork and folder marked “Stiles” was laying open on his wooden desk. The light of his computer screen was illuminating the dark room. He had been awake much longer than he should have been, and it showed in his bloodshot eyes.

Parrish sat on the edge of the desk. “We all know Stiles. You know she was chomping at the bit to get the hell outta dodge. She needs a little space, some time to figure things out for herself. She’ll call you, sir.”

The Sheriff looked up at his deputy. “Since when did you get to be so wise?”

“I’ve had practice, and a great mentor.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

 “I meant Lydia.” Parrish grinned.

“Ha! Yeah, I guess I saw that coming. Alright, Parrish you win. She gets one more day. Then I’m heading up to-”

His words were cut off by the loud ring of his landline, making them both jump. Sheriff Stilinksi snatched the phone up so quickly it was almost a blur.

“Hello? What? Woah, woah, woah, slow down! Are you sure? Give me the plate number.”

Parrish watched the Sheriff’s face pale.

‘What?’ he mouthed.

The Sheriff held up a finger, motioning him to wait.

“Okay, okay we’re on our way.” He hung up the phone.

He spoke into his radio. “Forensics and Unit two dispatch, we got an eleven-twenty-four on Hudson Drive near the county line.”

The Sheriff got up quickly from his chair and grabbed his jacket and place his gun in his holster.  
“It’s Stiles plates.”

They were out the door in record time. Parrish had to practically run to catch up to the Sheriff.

* * *

 

Sirens blaring, they quickly reached the County line where there were already several squad cars, an ambulance, and a forensics team inspecting the jeep. The Sheriff felt his heart drop. He got out of the car, slamming the door, and quickly made his way over to an officer.

“Sheriff we’re gonna do everything we can-”

“Tell me everything you know.” He said while walking towards the jeep.

“The car was abandoned, probably sometime Saturday night. A couple from Ontario was passing through when they noticed that no one was in the car. They went to go check it out and found the keys still in it, the door ajar. They called the police after that.”

“Is forensics almost done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright listen to me. I want a full report, I want to talk to the witnesses and I need a goddamn UV light in there. Someone put some tape up, this is officially a crime scene.”

The Sheriff was visibly fuming. His shoulders were rigid, his breath coming out in short angry huffs. Parrish quickly took lead, “You heard the man, let’s move!”

Everyone scurried to their respective duties.

Once the attention was off the Sheriff he turned to him. “Sir, you know she’s fine. Stiles is smart. She wouldn’t just…”

“I know she’s smart! You don’t have to tell me that, I know! She’s my daughter...” His voice trailed off. He took a deep breath. “She’s okay, damn it.”

Parrish pursed his lips and nodded. He gave the Sheriff a quick slap on the shoulder and went to go talk to Forensics.

Why did this have to happen? To his daughter. To his beautiful child. This was something he dealt with every day it felt like.

Someone’s child went missing, never to be seen again. He had to tell them that it was going to be okay, they would find them, they couldn’t be far behind.

 Not his Stiles though. His smart, resourceful kid. He shook his head in disbelief.

“Stiles, what happened?” He asked the night air.

He went to the jeep, looking inside. The keys were still in the ignition. He checked the light switch, the battery had died. Wheels started turning in his head.

He checked the ground right by the driver’s side door. Faint footprints, her size shoe. Then something else, a larger sized shoe maybe an eleven.

His forehead creased as he frowned, his eyebrows drawn together in thought.

No signs of a struggle, it may have been someone she knew. The car wasn’t rammed into a tree so she had pulled over to the side of the road of her own volition.

Stiles footprints stayed near the car but the larger tracks seemed to continue into the woods. She was carried. Which means she would have been incapacitated. There were-

“Two sets of tracks, sir. One coming out of the forest and one leading in. They start to fade about a hundred feet in. Do we think foul play?” Parrish asked, arms crossed.

The Sheriff stood from his crouched position of the ground. “It looks like it. I want a full perimeter set up and I need a team to scout out the area. This takes precedent, do you understand?”

"Yes sir."

The Sheriff frowned,"What's the date today?"

Parrish answered immediately, "Monday, October 17th, sir."

"Okay, okay...two days. It was two days before anyone came through here. Whoever...took her, they didn't bother covering their tracks, hiding the car..they wanted us to find this. She would be dead if they didn't." The Sheriff choked out the last part. 

The deputy paced slowly. "Ransom?"

The Sheriff nodded. "Has to be. We'll be hearing from them soon. Keep communication lines clear and call me, the goddamn minute you hear.. _anything."_

Parrish nodded, “Yes, sir, and there’s something else.”

He handed the Sheriff a sealed evidence bag with a cloth in it. “Forensics thinks…chloroform.”

“Oh my God.” the Sheriff shook his head, “I have to go…tell Scott. God, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to her.” He said helplessly.

He rubbed his face in exhaustion, the shock being replaced with weary confusion and fear for his daughter.

He made his way back to the car, slammed the door shut, sitting in the dark for a moment.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll find her. We can’t be that far behind.” He said to himself.

He dialed Scott’s number.

It rang four times.

“Hello?” He heard Scott’s groggy voice on the other line, betraying how late it was.

He took a deep breath.


	4. Awakening

 Scott felt a flurry of emotions in a short span of five minutes before, during, and after his conversation with the Sheriff. He woke Kira beside him and gave her a brief explanation whilst swinging his legs out of bed and pulling on a white t-shirt. 

“They don’t know where she is?” Kira asked, concern in her dark eyes.

Scott shook his head in the negative. “Sheriff seems convinced it was foul play.”

“What else? What do they know so far?!”

Scott sighed, his shoulders sagging down, “I have a few ideas, but I can’t be sure. I need to talk to everyone.”

“You mean we need to talk to everyone,” Kira said anxiously, “Scott, we’ll find her. She knows that.”

Scott looked back at Kira and tried to smile reassuringly. “I know we will. Let’s get everyone together and meet at the clinic. I can’t even imagine Stiles must be going through right now.” He ran his long, tan fingers through his tousled brown hair distractedly. 

God what time was it, even? Scott looked at his alarm clock, the red glow illuminating the blue light of early morning. 4:30 AM. 

Kira started texting Lydia.

* * *

 

The group was considerably shaken. They had dark circles under their eyes, a fuzzy feeling in their tired brains, and a worry for their friend and pack member that could not be matched.

They had met up at the clinic per Scott’s request and were currently standing around the lab amongst cold metal that was shining in the darkness. The sun wasn’t even out yet, and the early morning chill was permeating everyone’s bones, teeth chattering as they waited somberly in the dark.

Malia and Kira stood together talking quietly and Liam was staring at Deaton’s vials and jars filled with Mountain ash and viscous fluids, tapping on one of them.

Scott’s eyes swept over his tired friends. He cleared his throat, “Stiles is missing…Sheriff Stilinksi said it's been approximately two days since Stiles was last seen alive. I don’t know who could have done this or why…but she’s scared, alone…we have to put our heads together and figure this out.”

Kira added, "They found her car at the town line early this morning."

Liam scoffed, "Earlier than this?"

He was cowed with a look from Hayden.

Lydia laid out the situation in a question, “Stiles was planning this trip for a while, right? She didn’t really keep it a secret, and any number of people could have been made aware of it. Whoever did this would have had plenty of time to orchestrate a kidnapping.”

Hayden interrupted, "Wait, are we really saying kidnapping? Maybe she just ditched the car and wanted to go for a hike and got lost?"

She trailed off like someone does when they can't even convince themselves of what they're saying.

"With none of her clothes or personal belongings?" Kira queried.

Lydia almost laughed. "Stiles would rather die than abandon that old junker."

“Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, how many weeks has Stiles been talking about this? Who do we know that spends a lot of time with her? Other than us obviously.” Kira asked, scanning the eyes of her friends.

“Do we spend a lot of time with her? Have any of us spent a lot of time together at all recently? I feel like…we did this. If we had just stuck together like a pack is supposed to-” Malia said remorsefully.

Scott shook his head vehemently. “No, no! We can’t blame ourselves. We all have things going on. It doesn’t make it our fault that she's missing. It only makes it our fault if we don’t do everything we can to find her. That’s what being a part of a pack is about!”

The tension eased somewhat…everyone feeling the effects of the pack mentality, the loyalty and perseverance that had seen them through some rough times.

Kira laced an arm through Scott’s, “Liam? Hayden? You guys talk to Stiles at all before she left?”

Liam shrugged. “Well…she and I never really talked much but-“

“Don’t like…talk about her in the past tense, dude.” Hayden corrected him quietly.

“Sorry, we don’t really talk much…but she told me a few days ago she was planning a visit to an old friend...maybe somebody in Seattle?”

Scott nodded encouragingly. “Did she give you a name? a phone number? Anything?”

Liam shook his head, and everyone’s shoulders slumped.

“Didn’t you say her car was found at the town line, Scott?” Malia inquired, her head turned to the side.

Scott nodded, “Yeah, why?”

“I can try to track her scent.” Malia said, thoughtfully.

“Good idea, I’ll go with you.” Kira offered.

“What can we do?” Liam asked eagerly, indicating himself and Hayden.

“You can go to school today.” Scott said firmly.

Liam opened his mouth incredulously.

“Are you serious? I can help!”

Hayden rolled her eyes but said nothing.

“I know you can! We need you to go to school and ask around, see if anyone’s heard anything. Only your close friends though, we need to play this close to the chest.”

Liam seemed like he wanted to argue but kept his mouth shut, simply nodding.

“You have to be sure you want to get involved, guys. Stiles may be under a great deal of duress and she’ll be counting on us to do all we can to get her back, so if you’re not ready for that, let me know.” Scott added for good measure, making eye contact with each member of the group.

They all kept their mouths closed…some for more dubious reasons than others.

Scott whispered something to Kira who smiled comfortingly, kissed him on the cheek and walked out, followed by Liam and Hayden. Lydia stayed behind, her mouth pursed in confusion.

“Lydia? Is there something the matter?” Malia asked.

“There’s something about this that’s giving me a bad feeling.” Lydia stated, rubbing her arm to induce warmth in the cold lab.

“What are you thinking?” She asked curiously.

Lydia sighed. “I just have some suspicions. I need to…check on a few things.”

“You know if you have anything that could be useful, you should share it.” Scott prompted.

She bit her lower lip as she did when she was thinking, the wheels turning at a chaotic pace.

“I think I might know who has Stiles.”

Scott’s eyes widen in surprise. “Who?”

“The Desert Wolf.”

Scott cleared his throat, “What makes you think so?”

“Think about it. She needs bait, something to lure Malia out. Or maybe it’s a distraction, so we focus on rescuing Stiles while she sneaks into town.” Lydia was pacing, deducing possible outcomes.

Malia bit her lip in consternation.

Scott persisted, “Have we considered the Dread Doctors? This may be something we’re unprepared for, something we’ve never seen before. We should see what we find out from the crime scene. Until then, we need to examine every possibility.”

“No, she’s right…it does make sense. I mean think about it..first Deaton..now Stiles. She’s gathering leverage and Deaton and Stiles are the collateral.” Malia stated without feeling. Stiles was one of her closest friends and to think of that bitch digging her claws into her sister, her friend…she felt her coyote rising to the surface of her mind.

Lydia snapped her back to reality. “Hey…it’s okay, let’s go check out Stiles’ car, see what you can find out.”

Malia nodded and walked out with Scott and Lydia trailing behind her, sharing a look where they thought she couldn’t see. There was a palpable tension between them, knowing as they did that Malia blamed herself for what happened to Deaton, as though she herself were personally responsible. As ridiculous as it was, they couldn’t find the words to comfort their friend or prevent her self-flagellation so they simply walked in silence.

It was cold outside and their breath fogged in the grey light. Birds were already chattering and the smell of pines and firewood was oddly comforting in the wake of a stressful revelation, like a friend being kidnapped.

Malia’s eyes flicked around in what could have almost been considered suspicion. Her paranoia was already resurfacing…that was how much power the Desert Wolf had over her. She hated it.

Malia nodded and she drew her breath a little shakily. “I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping in contact…been a little preoccupied. I’m kind of freaking out over here. I mean, Stiles was...she was on her way out! And now she just got dragged back in to this messy town-“

“I know,” Lydia cut her off, sympathy in her eyes, “But we can’t waste time with worry or regret, Stiles is counting on her friends, she needs us to be smart. We need to work together.”

Malia felt a tear well up in her eye. She brushed it away angrily. “What if we can’t find her? I just…I can’t deal with another death..”

“Hey hey! Stiles is going to be okay, Malia. Whoever has her isn't going to kill her...they probably just need a hostage. She’s not going to die.” Lydia placed her hands comfortingly on her friends arms.

Malia forgot human subtly for a moment, and yanked her friend into a tight hug.

“Thank you.” She whispered gratefully.

Lydia pulled away gently. “It’s cool. We need to get to Stiles' ridiculous excuse for a vehicle much less a Jeep, you’re the best tracker of the pack.”

Malia smirked, “It’s easy when the rest of your pack acts like they snort sand. Did you really mean what you said? You think this was the Desert Wolf?”

Lydia met her friends eyes, “It makes sense to me, and logically it would be a smart play on her part.”

Malia’s face darkened. “I don’t doubt it…. It’s possible…if that crazy bitch is involved somehow and knows where Stiles is then we need to find her.”

“I’m not completely sure. It’s just a speculation.” She cautioned.

Malia looked at her friend. “No it’s helpful…let’s go.”

 Lydia stopped in her tracks. "We can't go to the site yet."

Malia frowned, "Why not?"

Lydia pulled her friend to the side, whispering, "There's something I didn't tell Scott."

 

* * *

 

 A few hours later and in a very different atmosphere, a tired and restless Stiles wandered the halls. She did her best to avoid him but Peter soon found her laying on the floor looking at some old dusty records. She tracing the lettering on a well-worn record sleeve. The dulcet tones of Judas Priest were blasting from the record player.

He scrunched up his nose. "Breaking the Law? Isn't that a little ironic?"

"What are you doing here, Peter?" Stiles asked, saddened her small bit of peace was over.

“I was hoping to give you a tour.” He said, looking down at her.

“Don’t need one, won’t be staying long.” She threw back over her shoulder.

“Is that so?” He asked smugly.

She got up and turned to face him. “Yes.”

He sighed and started to speak. 

"Show me the tests." If he thought she had forgotten about them then he could go fuck himself.

He nodded, and held his hand out.

She brushed past him, irritated.

She heard Peter sigh but thankfully she wasn’t punished.

He walked with her and ushered her inside a dark room, with a desk, laptop, and papers scattered about, graphs and nonsensical numbers and data on every sheet. 

"Don't even think about the laptop, no internet access." He remarked casually, skimming through some files.

She narrowed her eyes. Damn. He was skimming through her thoughts too, the animal.

She gestured, "Well? Where's your evidence?"

He picked up a small paper with a list of chemical compounds on it. "These were your medications, prescriptions etc. And this," He grabbed another paper off the desk, "was the wolfsbane percentage that they were laced with. As you can see it's quite high." 

Stiles scoffed. "What makes you think I'd believe your bullshit little presentation over my father? Why would he do something like this?" She challenged.

Peter narrowed his eyes. "We all do things we're not proud of. Perhaps he thought he was protecting you. I suppose in a way, I have him to thank, as the wolfsbane weakened you enough-"

"So that you could rape me?" Stiles' eyes were on fire.

"-to ensure a successful bonding." Peter finished firmly. His eyes were becoming aggressive. 

She was dumbstruck. "How. DARE. YOU? My father would never in a million years consent to this pairing and if he had known what you were planning he would have had Scott rip your-"

Peter held up a hand, to silence her.

"I'm more patient than you Stiles. We have all the time in the world, for you to understand, to accept. However, I will not stand here and be railed at by my omega and you will not always be permitted to act this way."

Stiles bristled, and squared her shoulders. "Well thanks a lot for the "proof". Excuse me while I continue to believe the best about my father and not take the word of my rapist over his."

With that she threw the paper at him and walked out.

She made sure to stomp up the stairs to annoy him. She knew she was being childish but damn him if he thought he this was going to be easy. 

She shut the door to the bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief. She locked the door for added comfort but it was a false sense of security. She knew if he wanted to get into that room he would. A spike of fear made her heart beat faster but she did her best to shut out the invasive memory of his hands on her body. 

She had been awake for maybe an hour or two and she already felt exhausted. She thought about taking a nap but the bed was giving her chills just by looking at it so she ignored it in favor of seeing what was behind the door that had gone unnoticed in her initial inspection.

“Huh.” She whispered to herself.

It was a library. A small room painted dark green filled with bookshelves made of dark wood and carrying impressive volumes that looked positively ancient. Two ornate chairs were positioned next to the only window and there were a few plants in the corner of the room. If this were any other house, she would have loved this room. As it was, it was just another section of her cage. She walked over to the bookshelves, skimming the titles.

Her soul had been starved of literature for what felt like forever, the only relevant text she had recently read being the Bestiary.

She pulled a small grey book out of the shelf and opened it, inhaling the amazing scent. She read the cover, ‘A Complete History of the Salem Witch Trials: by Alfred Hale’.  
Hale? A relative of that psychopath had written a book? She shrugged and plopped down in one of the chairs to begin a curious exploration of the old tome.

A few hours later Stiles awoke to someone rubbing her hand in soothing circles.

“Stiles wake up, you had a nap. It’s time for dinner.” The sun had shifted and shadows were cast on the library floor, the room illuminated in gold light. At the foot of her chair where she was curled up, knelt Peter, his blue eyes watching her calmly and his mouth drawn up in a smirk.

She wiped the drool off her chin and yawned. “What time is it?”

Peter checked his phone. “About five, why you have somewhere to be?”

“Anywhere but here.”  
Ignoring her jibe, he gestured to the book lying face down in her lap.

“I see you found one of my distant relatives books. He was a great writer in his time, but many people were so convinced that he was a supernatural that they drove him out of Massachusetts.”

She rubbed her sore neck and closed the book, setting it on the end table. “Cool, so when can I leave?”

Peter sighed and grabbed her legs and under her arms, hauling her up.

“Hey!” she yelped indignantly, beginning to struggle immediately.

He carried her downstairs without a word and avoided her eyes which were blazing fire at him.

“You know you don’t have to manhandle me everywhere you want me right?”

He looked down at the fuming girl in his arms. “I know.”

He dropped her on the couch like a sack of potatoes and went to the kitchen. The T.V. was on and Stiles huffed grumpily, snatching the controller and flipping the channels.

“I’m gonna put on Sesame Street just for you.” She yelled out to the kitchen.

“I’ll put salt in your food!” Peter warned.

“Ha! I’m bitter enough as it is.” She mumbled.

Her breath hitched in her throat when she flipped the channel once more and saw her face on the screen. It was the local news channel running a breaking news story. A voice narrated amidst a display of images and video footage of her car and various police officers and caution tape.

“—approximately a day and a half ago an out-of-town couple was just passing through Beacon Hills when they noticed an abandoned vehicle just outside the city. Police reports say the vehicle belonged to seventeen-year-old Stiles Stilinski, a student at Beacon Hills High and daughter of Sheriff Stilinski. Evidence suggests an abduction may have taken place. We have Officer Jordan Parrish joining us live at the scene, welcome Officer Parrish.”

Parrish’s face popped up on the screen next to the news anchor and Stiles gulped.

“Hello, thank you for having me.” His kind eyes looked calmly into the camera lens.

“Now, Officer Parrish what exactly can you tell me about the mysterious disappearance of this young girl, the daughter of the Sheriff?” the lady asked incredulously.

Parrish shifted on screen. “Yes, while I can’t disclose any information about an ongoing investigation or submit any personal speculation, however I can say we are doing everything we can to find Stiles.”

Stiles felt her eyes begin to water. Her heart ached.

“This is certainly a shocking situation and very traumatic for her family, I can imagine. Officer Parrish what would you say to Stiles if you knew she was watching?” the news anchor lady seemed almost plastic in her sympathy.

Parrish sighed and looked out of the screen with hurt in his eyes. “I’d want her to know that her friends are coming for her.”

“Thank you, Officer Parrish and now with—” The screen popped into blackness. She turned around and saw Peter standing with a remote.

"I was watching that." She seethed.

His eyes were grim.

“Dinner’s ready.” He stated before turning back to the kitchen.

Stiles wiped her tears. She felt worse somehow, after seeing Parrish. She knew she wouldn’t have been able to keep it together if she saw her dad, but seeing Parrish gave her some hope, even if it only cemented how trapped she still was. She read the message loud and clear, however. The pack was coming for her.

 She sighed and stood up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen where Peter was wearing an apron.

She froze and stared at him as he pretended his didn't see her. 

"Well, that officially put me off my dinner, goodnight."

"Get back here and sit down, this is the best damn paella I've ever made."

She grumbled but sat down..her stomach  _was_ growling. And that payaya, or whatever he had said, smelled good. 

"What is it?" she asked suspiciously as she eyed the plate of food with steam wafting up from it. The table was set nicely and she saw a gleaming silver spoon at the side of her plate but no fork or knife. She almost smirked. There had to be a compliment in there somewhere. 

"It's a chicken dish...why? You afraid I poisoned it or something?" Peter flashed her his teeth as he sat down across from her, his apron removed. 

"Or something." She slid in, passively, as she began to poke at it with her spoon.

Peter sighed and shook his head. 

"Oh what? You don't get to act offended when you literally just-"

"Stiles! I don't want to fight..just eat your food."

She narrowed her eyes at the man across the table. She hesitantly sniffed her food and tested it...not tasting any chemical elements that would be unusual or out of place in food, she began to eat with vigor.

"And I look amazing in that apron." Peter retorted.

She almost choked as she laughed around a mouthful of food. 

"Attractive." He said sarcastically, an eyebrow raised. 

She swallowed her food, washing it down with some water. 

As she set the glass down she inquired, "Why do men always assume women's entire thought process is centered around looking attractive enough for them?"

Peter shrugged, "It makes us feel important."

She scoffed, "This is why I wore sweat pants and no makeup to school everyday. Guys maintain a ten mile radius around any girl they think isn't concerned with keeping up her appearance. A lot of good that did me..all that time spent not caring and I still get kidnapped." Her voice held a lot of anger towards the end.

"The irony is not lost on me." Peter smirked. "However you should have known your endeavor was futile. True beauty can't be covered up completely, and it magnetizes anyone clever enough to pay closer attention." 

She met his blue eyes with a hard glare. "I wish you wouldn't try to...make me like you. It's not enough that I'm here against my will...but you have to mock me as well?"

Peter shook his head and took a sip of wine. "I'm not mocking you, we're enjoying some conversation over a lovely meal."

"I know, I'm surprised you didn't burn the house down." she said bitingly.

His eyes hardened, as did his grip on his wine glass. "Now who's mocking who?"

She smirked, glad to see his true nature coming forth, tired of the facade of goodwill he had been sickeningly trying to foster. "Oh, I'm sorry...too soon?"

When he spoke again his tone was calm and even, "Stiles..."

"Peter..?" She taunted back, annoyed with his tone.

"I know what you're doing." He said, leaning back in his chair, his body posture relaxed as he took another swig of wine. 

"Oh really? And what would that be, wise and all-knowing Peter?" 

"You think you can say hurtful things and make me rethink my decision to have you as a mate...but let me tell you something my dear, I will  _never_ break the bond." Peter confidently smiled at her as he saw the rage seething just below the surface of her eyes. 

She was furious...he had turned it around in two seconds to where she was the one barely containing her anger. 

She decided to switch things up on him again. She reached forward and swiped the wine bottle from his side of the table.

"What do you think you're doing?" Peter asked, confused and alarmed.

She poured herself a big glass. She chugged down a few big gulps and smacked her lips. "Ahh, that's good," she noticed his look of indecision, unsure if he should take it away or not.

"What? Can't a kidnap victim indulge a little? Relax, it's not like I'm gonna get drunk and go on a serial killing rampage and start kidnapping and raping people..cause that would be insan- oh wait." She finished pointedly, sipping her drink with a raised eyebrow.

Peter laughed and grabbed his drink. "A toast, to not following in my footsteps." 

She raised her glass, her eyes level with his, and then she smashed the glass down as hard as she could on the table. The contents of the glass went everywhere as it shattered. The red wine splashed over the lace white tablecloth as she leaped up a few seconds before he did.

She held the glass shard in her hand against her throat, the glass digging into her palm, causing a trail of red to drip down on to the table, merging with the wine stains. She felt the sharp dig of the glass against the soft column of her throat as she stared her kidnapper down.

He had just started to move around the table when she dug the glass in a little and he stopped in his tracks, his hands out in surrender. "Stiles..put the glass down. Don't do this...don't try whatever it is you think is going to work." He took a slow step forward.

"Take one more step, asshole. I swear to God I will shove this into my carotid so fast it'll look like a goddamn blood sprinkler." She said ferociously, her wolf beginning to grow agitated and restless with a need to erupt in violence and aggression. Her eyes flashed amber.

In response, Peter's eyes flashed blue in anger. "Do you think this will solve anything? That if you somehow make it out of the house, if you somehow make it out of the woods...I'll just let you go?"

Her heart was beating wildly out of her chest...she was losing ground, she could feel it in the tension of Peter's body, his muscles coiled and ready to spring the first chance he had.

She felt wild and a little crazy as she replied, "I don't know...I-I don't care. I'm not going to stick around and find out just how deep your perversions run."

Peter scoffed, "My perversions? My perversions..Take a look in the mirror, sweetheart, you're the one with the glass shard to her throat."

"Because of YOU. You fucking egotistical, deranged bastard!" She took a step backwards and heard the crunch of glass under her barefeet. She didn't care, she could feel the adrenaline pumping wildly through her heart.

 Peter was still trying to reason with her. "Stiles you are my mate! There is nothing perverse in that bond between two people."

"It is if I never wanted it! Mates don't kidnap and rape! Mates don't hold you prisoner!" She hissed.

Peter nodded. "It was wrong of me to try to control you...I'm sorry for that. Stiles you do know I love you. That I would never hurt you. It's why you haven't tried to kill me yet...it's why you won't kill your self."

She hesitated for just a moment before running towards the door as fast as she could. She opened it just as it was slammed closed again, her body pressed against the wood frame. She screamed and struggled furiously as his body pinned her to the door.

He was trying to calm her down, just holding her as she struggled harder and harder. He swung her up over his shoulder and made his way up stairs, opening the bedroom door and walking in.

She saw where she was being taken and began thrashing and screaming wildly. He moved past the bed and made his way to the closet with the kicking, screaming girl. He dropped her inside and shut and locked the door as she pounded on it as hard as she could, trying to break it down. She eventually felt weak and tired and her thumps and kicks lessened. She slumped against the bottom of the door and began to cry, silently.

She tried to breathe normally. She couldn't think...couldn't believe she had wasted such an opportunity. She tortured herself with what-ifs. 

It was only when he heard her deep, even breathing that Peter sighed, stopped his cleaning of the disastrous kitchen and made his way back upstairs, opening the closet door slowly, Stiles spilled out of the doorway, laying on the floor, tears streaking her face as she slept fitfully.

He gathered her up in his arms and lay her in the bed, watching over her for a moment before deciding something. He grabbed some handcuffs and locked her to the frame with one hand. He pulled the covers up around her and smoothed back her hair. He shut off the light and closed the door. 

He decided to get a few things done while his mate was incapacitated. He left through the back door of the house, locking it securely behind him.

Stiles opened her eyes. He bought it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The universe is vast, time is a construct, and my visceral need for feedback rears its ugly head yet again...thoughts?


	5. Memento Praeterita

_5 P.M._

“What are you hoping we’ll find?” Malia asked from the backseat, beside Kira. They were almost at the crime scene. Scott was driving and Lydia had claimed shotgun.

“Anything. A shoe, her phone, maybe footprints. I don’t know, I was never as good at this stuff as Stiles.” Scott sighed.”

“It’s okay, Malia you remember how to single out certain scents right?” Kira questioned.

Malia snorted, “I’ve been coyote longer then I’ve been human. That doesn’t exactly go away.”

“I can’t help wondering what’s going through her mind right now.” Scott lamented.

Kira reached forward from the back seat and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Maybe she saw Parrish’s message. If she did, she knows we’re coming for her.”

“And anyway it doesn’t help to worry about hypotheticals. We need to focus on the facts and glean as much as we can from the evidence. Right Lydia? Lydia? Helloo?” Malia snapped her fingers at her friend who was staring blankly out the car window, her strawberry blonde hair falling in front of her expressionless face. No that wasn’t quite right. There was an expression, but it didn’t look good. Lydia breathed in sharply, coming out of her daze. She turned to look at her confused friends.

 

“Lydia, what’s going on?” Scott asked.

Lydia turned back out the window. “I don’t know. Something is happening right now. Something bad. Scott, you have to stay vigilant. You’re going to be the orchestrator of what happens tonight.”

“But what’s happening?!” Malia was exasperated.

Suddenly a blood curdling scream erupted from Lydia. Scott gasped and stepped on the brakes, causing the car to spin out off the side of the road as the angry honking of the cars behind them rushed by. Everyone held their hands to their ears, grimacing and in shock. Finally, the shrieking dissipated. Lydia was left gasping, her skin ghostly pale.

Scott grabbed her arm, “Lydia, what is it? What did you see?”

Lydia shook her head, “ _Memento praeterita.”_

Malia’s eyebrows pulled together, “Lydia…we don’t speak Latin.”

Lydia looked up, “What? I spoke Latin?”

Kira raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, you said ‘ _Memento praeterita’_ what does it mean?”

“Remember the past…” Lydia spoke softly. She turned back to Scott.

“You said it to me…” Scott said carefully.

Malia sighed and crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. “Better do as instructed. Ignoring a Banshee’s wishes is bad luck.”

Scott gave her a look before turning back to Lydia. “Are you okay to keep driving?”

Lydia grabbed Scott’s arm. “Scott, she’ll be there. Tonight.”

Scott gasped. “What? How do you know?”

Lydia shifted her eyes away. “Must be a Banshee thing. Listen to me though! She will be there, but untouchable. I can’t explain how or why, she’ll be there. She will not be alone. I think.. I think we’re meant to send her a message.”

Scott carefully pried her fingers from his arm. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in thought for a long moment. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do.”

 

Once everyone was agreed on the plan they continued driving.

* * *

 

_8 P.M._

The bed frame itself was made of something metallic but sturdy. It took her a few tries but she yanked the bar she was chained to so hard it popped off the frame. Grinning, she rolled off the bed, making her way to the bathroom.

If she was correct, there were bound to be supplies from her plummaged room. She checked the first drawer, nothing. Hearing a wood floor panel creak downstairs, she stopped cold, her heart rake spiking.

When no one came charging up the stairs, Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and continued her frantic rummaging.

“Come on, you bastard. I know you took my stuff.” She made a sound of triumph when the third drawer yielded a box of her hair supplies. She snatched a hairpin from the mess and raced out of the bathroom, to the window. Carefully opening it, with the minimal amount of noise she could manage, she swung a leg out and then the other, clutching the hairpin.

She closed her eyes and breathed, her heart rate was still even, almost forty beats per minute, a technique she had perfected in case she had ever needed to lie to a werewolf. Bracing herself for impact, she shimmied half-way down the water drain, with some difficulty, and then dropped down the remaining distance, rolling with gravity.

She groaned, “I did not sign up for this level of cardio.” She quickly started jogging for the woods, in complete disbelief that she hadn’t yet been caught and slightly terrified of the consequences should her string of good luck end.

 _Don’t think like that,_ she chided herself, _just make it to the road._ Peter may have had the upper hand by having her on his territory, but pack laws were clear, there were specific boundary lines and it took Stiles all of ten seconds to realize that’s why Peter had been able to take her the way he did. It didn’t explain how he knew she would stop but she was slightly less concerned with logistics and more concerned with getting the hell out of there before he came back.

The town line ran diagonally across his property. If she could get to the car, she knew her dad would be there.

It was dark now, and there was no clear trail, just huge trees and a luminous moon that drenched everything in pale light. Leaves and twigs crunched and shuffled under foot as she ran. Her breath was coming hard now and her lungs burned. She could almost scent her Jeep.

Almost there! She fiddled a little more with the handcuffs and she heard a click. She tore them off and threw them overhand into a stagnant pond. They descended into the murky water with a plop. She was just about to start running again when she heard a noise, about two miles back, near the house. It was a low, long howl. “Fuck!” She exclaimed.

A new burst of energy hit her and adrenaline began pumping vigorously through her veins. She cleared a hedge and hit the ground running, the trees all blurring together. The night air was crisp and cold. She felt a panic rising up when the sound of feet crunching in the distance and heavy breathing found her ears from behind her. She could almost see the forest line and a bright light. “Dad!” She yelped.

She heard a shocked voice. “Stiles?! Where are you? Stiles?”

It was him, her dad.

“Dad!” She cried out again just as a body slammed into her from behind, knocking the wind out of her. Large arms tightened around her. No! She was so close! She began struggling violently, screaming from behind the large hand pressed tightly against her mouth. She was dragged behind a tree. She elbowed him before her arm was trapped. He grunted in pain and squeezed her so tightly she gasped from lack of air. She breathed through her nose, feeling light headed from all the running.

She heard her dad tromping around, shuffling the leaves he hurried. “Stiles?” he called out again desperately.

Peter’s voiced growled low in her ear, “If you reveal yourself, I will tear every limb from his body.” She stayed silent. He was so close to the tree, just a few feet more and he would see her. Suddenly she heard another voice, it was deeper. She recognized it instantly.

“Wait, Sherriff! Stop! You can’t go in there.” Scott’s voice warned.

The Sheriff stopped a few feet from the tree where Stiles was being held. She screamed internally. “Why the hell not, Scott?” Her dad was at his wits end, beyond niceties at this point. She couldn’t blame him, all she wanted to do was give him a hug.

Scott sighed, “This is the Hale property line.”

“So?!” the Sheriff fumed.

“It’s pack laws. If you do this without being invited, you could bring a war down on us. We don’t need that while we’re looking for Stiles, right?”

“I’m the Sheriff for godsakes, doesn’t that grant me any special privileges?!”

 _Yes, please, help me!_ Stiles begged Scott to hear her telepathic pleas.

“I’m sorry Sheriff, it’s just...”

“But I heard her! Just now! She called out to me!” her dad sounded frantic.

Scott’s confused voice asked, “You...heard her?”

“What did I just say? Yes! Just now, in there, weren’t you listening? You didn’t hear that?”

There was a long pause before Scott said, “No sir, I don’t smell her, I’m having trouble smelling anything right now…are you sure you heard her?”

What? He couldn’t smell her? That was impossible. With his abilities, he should have sniffed her out the day she got kidnapped. What the hell was going on?

She heard a different, more feminine voice that took her by surprise. It was Malia, and she was angry. “Scott, why can’t I smell her? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, I’m just as stunned as you.” He answered. Stiles could tell the wheels were turning in his head.

She heard her father sigh. Scott quickly said, “Sheriff, why don’t you head home? We’ll keep looking, I swear you’ll be the first person I call the second we find out anything.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere. I am _this close_.” Her dad sounded determined, but she could hear the tiredness he was trying to mask.

Scott spoke in a low voice, “Sir, you’re exhausted…when was the last time you got some sleep? Look Stiles wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out like this. You’ll be able to work better if you get some food and rest. I promise you I will call you.”

Sheriff Stilinski sighed in defeat. “I suppose...” He said hesitantly.

His footsteps retreated. Stiles was breathing easier now. She strained her ears to hear what was being said betwixt Scott and Malia. She wondered who else was there. Her friends had come to find her. It warmed her heart through the fear she was feeling. Peter had been a silent fuming figure, tightly securing her to his body and she could feel the tension in his muscles. She was dread to find out what was going to happen to her when she was returned to the house.

She focused back in as Scott said, “-it’s what I expected more or less. I’m just very confused. I think we need to regroup. I just wish Deacon was here.”

Malia growled. “This is ridiculous. How did everything get messed up so quickly? It’s all her fault.”

_No, it’s all his fault. I hate that you’re going to find out about this. I’m sorry, Malia._

Scott started pacing along the tree-line. “He said he heard her call out, from inside the Hale property. I think we need to consider the possibility that someone is using Hale House.”

“What? That’s crazy, Peter is dead. Who could be using it? She wouldn’t dare use that place.” Malia refuted.

_You idiots, stop talking, you’re giving him everything._

“Hey guys, over here!” it was Kira’s voice. They made their way over to her.

“Look at this, what does that look like to you?” She inquired.

“Mountain ash…freshly poured by the looks of it.” Lydia stated.

“Mountain ash? Why? To keep us out?” Scott asked.

“Or to keep someone in.” Lydia whispered, peering into the darkness of the forest.

“Guys, I hate to be _that person_ but we’ve been sitting here twiddling our thumbs. If we haven’t figured anything out by now we aren’t going to make any more progress here. We need to start looking somewhere else.” That was Liam.

Her friends had been at the crime scene all day. She wanted desperately to scream out. But her friends couldn’t reach her even if she did. And the consequences could be severe to everyone if she did. She would have to be stealthy about next time.

“I guess...let’s go home, get some rest, we can regroup like I suggested tomorrow. Oh and Malia, do you remember the code to Stiles safe? There’s some stuff in there we could really use.”

“Yeah, it’s like 4545, I’ll check the paper she gave me.”

“Alright, let’s head out.”

Stiles suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore. In fact, she smiled behind his hand where he couldn’t see. Because Stiles didn’t give Malia any paper. Because Stiles didn’t have a safe.

* * *

 

_Six months ago._

Stiles and Scott were sitting outside, it was the beginning of the school year and it had been a stressful day. “Urgh! This is so useless! When am I going to use Spanish in Germany?” Scott was complaining from down below Stiles, who was up in the branches of her favorite tree by the lake, helping an entirely too ungrateful Scott with his Spanish homework. He was skipping rocks on the surface of the glassy lake. She chuckled, her highlighter gliding over the smooth, glossy pages of the well-worn textbook. “Since when are you going to Germany?”

“Since the probability of me using Spanish significantly lowers in German-speaking countries?”

Her best friend grinned up at her, his teeth gleaming as he chucked another rock into the lake.

“Come on, stop messing around. Now, _en espanòl,_ ” She fixed him with a look,” give me the word for this definition: take someone away illegally by force or deception; kidnap.”

Scott gasped, clutching his heart dramatically as though he were in a telenovela. “Secuestrada!” He cried in a falsetto.

Stiles rolled her eyes. “You never know, someone could feel the vibes of annoyances I perpetually give off and come steal you away.”

Scott smiled as he quickly grabbed onto the lowest hanging branch, hauling himself up to sit beside her. “Yeah but you’d come find me right, Stilinksi?”

She brushed the strands of hair out of her face as she looked over her notes, before closing it with an air of finality and handing it over to Scott. “Possibly.”

He laughed but then he got a look on his face, one she had seen many times before. “Are you having an idea again? You know how harmful those are to jocks!” She joked.

He smiled a little but spoke seriously. “Don’t you think—well, with everything going on, don’t you think we should have some sort of signal? Something to let each other know we’ve got things under control?”

“What like a code?”

“Yeah! Okay like, what if a bunch of bank robbers decide to kidnap you and ransom you and you can only call one person to tell them to empty your bank account, you could call me and say?”

“Secuestrada!”

“Oh my god, no! Say something…say something like, I don’t know…’4545’.”

“What? Why that?” Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“Think about it. It’s a four digit code that could be applicable to anything. If either of us is ever in danger, or we need to communicate in some way, we can just say it.”

“So in this bank scenario, if I say ‘4545’ then you know I’m in danger, because it’s not my pin?”

“Yeah exactly!” Scott exclaimed.

“Okay…so in this scenario, are the robbers hot? Because I may ask you to hold off on the rescuing if they’re hot.”

Now it was Scott’s turn to roll his eyes. “Do you agree though? I mean, do you think that’s a good idea?”

Stiles smiled with a hint of worry. “Sure Scott…are you okay? I mean, you don’t think anything bad is gonna happen to us do you?”

Scott shook his head. “I’m not going to let anything happen to us. We’ll keep each other safe. We have to stick together, for the pack. So…4545?”

Stiles smiled. “4545, you weirdo.”

* * *

 

_The present…_

 

The group left and she heard the slamming of car doors as the police followed suit. The area was taped off and the fluorescent lights were shut down. Soon, it was silent, dark. The moon was brightly shining on the ground. She was whirled around and her back pressed against the tree in an instant.

Peter’s blue eyes were alight with anger.  She found she couldn’t look him in the eye. His hand was removed from her mouth and both arms secured themselves on either side of her shoulders, caging her in. He just stared straight ahead, his gaze was scorching. The tension was palpable, like an electric buzz in the air. Finally, she turned back to him, tired of feeling intimidated. “What?!”

He shook his head in disbelief, stepping away from her. He turned his back to her, hands on his hips, staring up at the moon. “How do you propose I handle the situation Stiles?”

She ran a hand through her hair and stepped away from the tree. “There’s nothing to handle. I hate you and I will never stop trying to get away from you. You’re an idiot if you ever thought anything else.” _Fuck you, my friends are close, they are so close to burning you._

Peter sighed but retrieved a brown bottle from his back pocket, along with a rag. She stepped back against the tree. “What is that? What are you going to do?”

Peter took a step forward, pouring the chemical onto the rag. He calmly explained, “I can’t trust you not to try to escape again, and I don’t feel like being punched and kicked all the way back to the house.”

Stiles put a hand out in protest. “Are you serious? Stop! You don’t need to do this.”

“I think I do, you’ve been very mischievous and you disobeyed me.”

“Ugh! I am not some dog you can train!” Stiles snarled.

Peter casually advanced closer. “I agree wholeheartedly that you are no dog. As for being trained, I don’t want a servant, I want a mate, albeit a kind and companionable one. And in that respect, I think you’ll find how much you’ll enjoy my methods.”

“What?”

“Hush now, little one.” And then the rag was over her mouth and nose. In defense of Stiles, she put up a hell of a fight. But drugs take away much middle ground and leave a disadvantage too large to overcome. With this reality looming over her, she slowly drifted away, but not before she saw one last thing, high above her in the sky. The changing of the lunar phase.

The beginning of the Blood Moon.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I must have perfection before I can give the people what they want. In any case, here is the delayed chapter.


	6. It Begins

Stiles felt a cold wash cloth being gently pressed against her forehead. She gulped and coughed. Her throat was so dry. She felt aches and pains deep in her bones, and sighed gratefully when her head was lifted with one large hand, and water was offered up to her lips. She drank a few swallows before the water was taken away and her head, which felt heavier than a bowling ball, was laid to rest against the soft pillows beneath her. “Dad?” She whimpered deliriously. 

“I had this horrible dream…” She mumbled, not registering or choosing to ignore what the voice said. “I was being chased, he grabbed me…. he wouldn’t let me go.”

“You’re safe now, little one.”

Stiles’ eyes flew open in horror. She gasped as she saw Peter at the side of the bed. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on hers, cautiously observing her reaction. She raised her hand to slash him across the face with her claw but found herself stopped. She turned to look and saw her hand bound with a soft material to the bed in knots so tightly and intricately woven she figured it would take her a day and a night just to undo them. Her other hand rested on her stomach.

She started twisting her restrained hand and struggling. Her skin was burning up and she felt winded. She hardly protested when, in a firm but gentle manner, her head was pushed back against the pillows and her free hand was caught and her fingers interwoven with his. She felt weak from the minimal effort she had put into struggling. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breath came short and fast.

“Peter, why do I…why is it so hot in here?” Her head tossed side to side in discomfort. The cool washcloth was once again applied to her forehead, which was glistening with perspiration. The relief lasted only a moment and the fire returned in full force.

He spoke calmly as he gathered up some materials from the bedside table. “You’ve never experienced a Blood Moon without your suppressants- “

“I don’t plan on starting now, give them to me!” She growled as another wave of pain washed over her.

Peter shook his head, “I know it hurts, as I was saying, you’ve never been through this without the aid of suppressants so your body will need to adjust, it takes time Stiles, it’s never easy to bear.”

“I shouldn’t have to! It’s my decision!” She snarled, but she felt herself losing ground.

“It’s going to happen in stages. The first stage is the worst. Your body is sweating out the last of the drugs from the previous Blood Moon. You have a slight fever but that’s normal. If you stay hydrated, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be fine once you give me my GODDAMN DRUGS!” She lashed out viciously. Her pupils were dilating rapidly and she felt heat washing over her.

He walked over to her slowly. He sat down beside her on the bed as she twisted and squirmed in discomfort as the drugs worked themselves out of her system. She felt slightly grateful that she wasn’t completely in the dark about what was happening to her. She had never experienced a full heat.

She was scared if she was being honest with herself. Possibly even more scared about that than the male looming over her. His eyes were quite serious and almost looked grey in the moonlight which was coming in from behind the curtain. He checked her claiming bite and then returned his stern gaze to the writhing female under him.

“I understand the agony you are in. Believe me, I do. But I can’t give you what you want. And Stiles? You will never use suppressants again. Each time will be less and less of a struggle until it becomes almost bearable.”

She scoffed even in her state of semi-lucidity. “‘Almost bearable’? What kind of life is that?”

Peter chuckled drily. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, but nevertheless, it’s a life you  _will_  lead. I won’t allow you to deny your nature every season.”

Stiles gritted her teeth, “You’re really enjoying this whole dictator overlord thing huh?”

“I don’t like to see you suffer. However, in this case, I am here to care for you and it’s for the best.

Right now, your senses are heightened, your skin is on fire, you can feel…everything.” He lightly traced patterns on the flat part of her hip bone, making her shiver, and not from being cold. “However,” he said in a low growl, his tone and mood dropping, “If you run from me again, you will see what kind of control I can really impose.”

“Like what?” Stiles asked, shocking even herself with the question. It felt like it had just jumped out of her mouth. His eyes flashed with amusement, “Let’s hope you never have to find out what kind of life that is. Of course, if your curiosity is aroused, among other things, then I suppose I could give you a taste.” His eyes were darkening.

She swallowed nervously and turned her head away. “What’s the second stage?”

He smiled and the tension broke. “The second stage, is the most enjoyable. For me anyways. The heat will begin to dissipate and disperse to certain areas of the body. It will start to feel warm at first, and then you will start to feel the most delicious  _cravings_ deep within you.”

He placed a large hand over her womb as she gasped at the touch. He removed it before she could shred it to ribbons. It was only then that she realized she was naked. She gasped and covered herself with her free arm.

“You undressed me?!” She shrieked.

Peter sighed, unimpressed with her outburst. “Would you have preferred I let you overheat and let your body kill itself?”

The look she gave him made him quickly quip, “Actually never mind, don’t answer that.”

Stiles tried to calm herself down by taking deep breaths but her heart rate spiked suddenly. “Peter? I can’t get pregnant; you can’t do this.”

Peter shook his head. “Stiles you aren’t thinking clearly. You won’t get pregnant, not if you’ve been taking those hateful pills. And as far as the other thing goes...” He slowly stalked over to her and leaned down, emphasizing each word, “Yes. I. can.”  

She turned her head away as he leaned in to scent her neck and hair, sighing deeply in satisfaction.

“You are intoxicating, my love.”

While she was distracted, his hand sneaked between her legs, which she immediately tried to clamp shut, but he simply slid down to her sex, sliding a finger over the apex of her thighs and pulling away the wetness he found there.

He smiled, “It seems you find me just as irresistible.”

“As a heart attack.” She supplied, scathingly.

Peter shook his head, smirking. "Aren't you tired of pretending you don't want this? It must be exhausting being so morally superior all the time." 

Stiles was beginning to feel sick, there was fluid coming from between her legs, which she snapped closed as soon as she felt them parting involuntarily. Her vision was blurred, and there was a distinct feeling taking over her senses.

Need.  Want. 

"No!" She growled. "I don't...I.."

Her voice had lost it's edge. Where was her mind going?

She felt her thoughts start to disintegrate...to drain like sand through a funnel until only one thing was clear. 

"It's time to stop fighting now, Stiles." A voice from somewhere far away was tempting her.

"I decide." Stiles choked out. Her fever was reaching it's peak, she couldn't last much longer. She had to. 

"Not anymore."

Before she could scream in rage, frustration, hopelessness... lips came to hers, descending from nowhere, inviting her to engage, tangling with her own tongue, taking advantage of her weakened state, knowing she wouldn't bite.

Hands on either side of her head held her still as he dominated the exchange, the kiss searing and hard. He was making a point. 

Stiles groaned as she felt the last recesses of inner strength slipping from her grasp.

A male near, hovering, protective, his scent so strong she felt it in her skin. It was so different from when she had experienced the Blood Moon alone, so many times before.

And yet it felt so...sure. She didn't feel pain, no internal struggle.

Only relief, as much as it disgusted her. A strong arm came under her slender ribs, lifting her off the bed, arms still spread.

His mouth came to her breast, and her head fell back against the pillows. Her ribs expanded and contracted rapidly as his tongue delicately teased the bud to lengthen. 

 

He administered the same attentions to her neglected breast, before kissing a column up her neck. He suckled her claiming bite, causing another cramping wave of arousal to roll through Stiles. She felt fingers sliding towards the apex of her sex and her mind darkened. He whispered in her ear as his fingers played, teasing and rolling her nub. She felt more slick come out of her, easing the slide of his fingers.

Only when her eyes had closed, and her gasps had become pained did he stop. At some point he had divested himself of his clothing. When she looked on his body, she felt as though she were seeing it for the first time. Her mind hissed at her to remember herself.

It was beyond Stiles now, beyond Peter. The Blood Moon had released the fierce need within both of them, the desire for an Alpha to see his new Omega mated, strengthening the bond. 

Her hands were untied, but it made no difference, Stiles couldn't have forced herself from that bed if she'd wanted to. Strong arms came around her, his hips set between hers, and she felt his cock flush against her. She felt the head begin to slowly force its way in. When he had buried himself up to the hilt, he came to rest, her pussy stretching and squeezing around him pleasurably as she tried to adjust. Her arms came around his back, feeling the expanse of hard muscle.

He slowly slid out before pushing forward again, the gentle pace almost lulling her. Her legs spread wider as he angled to hit that place deep inside. Her hand sneaked down to her clit but he stopped immediately, grasping her fingers in his own, and trapping them above her head, before resuming the roiling, slow grind of his cock into her. 

"None of that, naughty girl, or I'll have to tie your hands again." He growled in her ear. 

She groaned, wrapping her legs around his hips, trying to pull him in deeper. 

His head came down, and gently took her mouth, and for the first time, she kissed him back, eager and hard, trying to coax him into urgency with her mouth. He readily responded, matching her enthusiasm in the kiss and beginning to build up a steady rhythm. 

He released her mouth as he began to thrust in earnest. 

Stiles felt the burning, wave of pleasure beginning deep down and slowly start to drown her. 

Her body, feverish and slick with fluid, clenching as hard as she could around him, helpless as he pounded away, her orgasm washed over her powerfully, her pussy tightening and fluttering around him as he found his own release. As he spilled his seed, the knot formed and locked them together. She gasped as the fiery need that plagued her had been quenched somewhat. Her mind was still hazy and her eyes started to close on their own. 

Peter placed a kiss to the top of her head as he arranged them to sleep. "Don't leave this house without permission again, Stiles."

She grumbled, tiredly, head against his chest, "They know." 

He started to respond but she had already fallen asleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, I don't know about this chapter. But hey! Not dead! I'm sorry I've been away. I have to be honest, my heart isn't in the same place it was when I first started this story. It's been a few years now, and as much as I love Teen Wolf, I just don't have the same feelings as I used to. I am writing another story concurrently that I hope you'll give a read once I post, as i feel that that is where my passion really lies right now. In any case, let me know what you think of the update. I also fixed and added some things to previous chapters, comment below if you figure out what I did ;)


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